Reading Between The Lines
by Writes4All
Summary: COMPLETED! Anybody else notice Eli and Clare seemed WAY closer in Try Honesty? Even if it wasn't on-screen, methinks they had a few moments we didn't see after he gave her the headphones. So, here's an idea for what might've happened!
1. Chapter 1

**So, did anybody else think that the way Eli and Clare acted in Try Honesty was a little… erm… different? Like, they're totally comfortable with each other now, and act like they've been friends for years. Makes me think something else happened between them after Better Off Alone, Part 2 and before the newest episodes. Something that established them as friends, and made Clare feel comfortable enough to flirt more directly. So, here's an idea for what happened!**

"You sure you don't want them back?" Clare brandished the headphones at Eli speculatively. "It's been a lot quieter since they talked things over."

He raised an eyebrow, "So, they're perfectly pleasant and completely agreed that a divorce was out of the question?"

Her expression faltered. "Well, um… no? They just said they'd have to talk, really talk, and that it might be awhile before things really got back to normal. Then they thanked me for giving them the push they needed to work things out,"

He sighed, and looked her dead in the eye. "You know, that may just mean they _are_ considering one and don't want to tell you yet."

For a minute, Clare couldn't quite process what he had said, then she stuttered. "Wh- what?'

"Clare, just because things look calmer now doesn't mean they'll stay that way forever. For all you know, the fighting could start up again tonight. It might be even worse. So, just keep them, ok?"

"But…" Her voice trailed off, and she looked down, biting her lip.

Eli gulped, watching her. They were talking about something serious, something sad. So why couldn't he keep his mind off of her, of how just plain _adorable _she was? She could switch from shy to stubborn, sincere to sarcastic, and sweet to sour in mere seconds. Nobody else, well, almost nobody else, could match him retort for retort, and nobody else did while looking so entirely innocent. Most people might not glance at her twice, might think she wasn't a threat (not like they did for him), because of how pure she looked, but Eli knew that if provoked, Clare could be every bit as dangerous as he could.

Suddenly, she glanced back up, interrupting his train of thought by staring at him with huge crystalline eyes. "Don't you need them?"

"Uh, no. Not really. I have another pair of at home." He chuckled at the suspicious look she gave him. "Well, they're not exactly like them, but I can plug them into an ipod, and that's all that matters."

"Ok. If you say so." She turned back toward the book they were supposed to be analyzing, flipped through a few pages, and slammed it back on the table. "Now, do you have any idea how to interpret this thing?"

He glanced at it. The book was an anthology of nonfiction essays written in a sort of neo-transcendentalist style, and every single chapter was very capable of delivering a headache. Still, he had a pretty good idea of what Ms. Dawes was trying to get them to do.

"Yep. We read it, find a page, analyze it for symbols and conventional literary patterns, then write a five page essay on how we came to the conclusions we did. Everybody has to pick a different page, so no copying. We just can help direct each other's thought processes, and generate ideas. Simple."

"It is not simple!" Clare exploded, and a few of the adjacent students eye her warily.

"Anything wrong, Miss Edwards?" Dawes looked up from the stack of papers she was grading.

"Uh, no ma'am!" Clare seemed embarrassed, and Eli smirked. He was going to have to work on that.

"Well, keep it down then. Other people are trying to work."

"Yes, ma'am!" Clare turned back toward him, and whispered harshly. "It is _not _simple. How do I pick a page, just one, and analyze it? Which one is right? How can I possibly look for enough symbols to write that long of an essay on just one page? It's got to be impossible."

"Wrong." Eli opened his copy, and flipped to one of the shorter essays. "I'm writing mine on this page here. I say she's working into the classic 'alien' idea. She sees a ship a long way off, and thinks it's floating in the air. Sky and sea get mixed together; she's confused. Both of those can later morph into clear examples of well-established patterns. Then, down here, she mentions how she never can find time to meet the owners of the light she sees far-off in the winter darkness. This also ties back to aliens, because we see the light of their worlds, but can never seem to reach them and say hello. Of course," he smirked, "you could also choose to see that as a separation from God thing, or as choosing to ignore the unknown. Really, there are a billion ways to interpret it." He nodded to her. "And close your mouth. Flies will get it."

Snapping her jaw closed, she hissed furiously. "How, how can you have gotten all that already? I don't even have a passage picked out yet. Hell, I don't even know where to start!"

He cocked his head to one side. "Really? The H-word? How unlike you, Clare."

"Shut up." She put her head in her hands. "What am I going to do?"

Okay, now he felt kind of bad for her. Hesitating, he reached down to pick her chin up, and lifted her face till he could look into her eyes. "Listen, Clare, you're having trouble because you're still too scared of what people think. No," he put a finger to her lips, stopping the angry denial he knew was coming. "You are, no matter whether you'll admit to it or not. Just listen to me for a second, and don't speak unless I ask you to. Ok?"

She nodded.

"Alright, good. Now, your writer's block returned because you're scared that you might choose a passage that's 'wrong'. You're afraid you'll choose something Mrs. Dawes won't like, and so you want to pick a safe, obvious route. Well, in case you haven't noticed, she hates that kind of thing! The more unconventional the better. And anyway, nothing and nobody is ever wrong when it comes to literary analysis. There are millions of symbols in this book. You just have to find a page with ones you think you can write about, and start generating. You'll find once you get one idea, ten more will just pop into your head."

"But I can't find _anything_." She whined.

He looked at her sternly. "Woman, did I say you could speak?" When she glared at him, he smirked playfully. "As punishment for being disobedient, go make me a sandwich."

She rolled her eyes. "Eli, we're in the middle of English. I can't go make you a sandwich, and even if I could, I wouldn't."

_Feisty._ Normally, he wouldn't have been so rude to a girl (actually, he hated guys that were), but with Clare, it was ok. She always had a snide remark ready; she could defend herself. With her, it wasn't disrespect; it was all a part of the competitive/caring relationship they'd created. They were intellectual rivals, and the male vs. female thing just added spice.

"Alright then." He looked her over, assessing her expression before he took a risk. "Well, I'll be competing in a contest for concert tickets after school, and it might last awhile. I'll probably be hungry afterward. How about if you go to The Dot with me, and we can work on your essay? You can buy me a sandwich instead, and I'll get you ice cream afterward in return. Deal?"

She smiled. "Sure, I guess. I just can't promise I'll have anything worth reviewing when we get there." The bell rang, and they started to pack up. Eli was going to walk out, but Clare stopped him by grabbing his shoulder,

"Um, good luck, at the competition, I mean. Hope you win." Her eyes sparkled with sincerity,

He smirked in response. "I intend to, believe me."

She patted his arm, and added, "Call me when you get out!" before disappearing into the crowd of students that filled the halls.

_Oh, Blue Eyes, believe me, I will. _Then, well satisfied, he turned in the opposite direction, and walked out of the building. If he was going to win the contest, he'd need to make some preparations first. Supposedly, the competition had something to do with who could last the longest standing in a crowd. That he could do, but it would be good to have some way to get rid of a few rivals, just in case.

_Maybe those old fish I saw in the dumpster can be useful to somebody after all…_

**Reviews and constructive criticism (see any grammar mistakes?) are ALWAYS welcome, so hit that pretty blue button at the bottom of the page, okay?**


	2. Chapter 2

**Here's another chapter! If you have any suggestions or ideas for what you think I should write after this, feel free to tell me!**

The people at this school were pathetic, and that was really all there was to it.

Eli had been standing with one hand on a white truck for about two hours, and of the sixty original people, only a fraction was left.

He snorted as he watched as one guy, a dim looking jock, was tricked into removing his hand. He wasn't the only one who'd fallen for that sort of thing either. These people seemed completely incapable of patience, or even of intelligence. This wasn't a hard task, after all. The way to win was to just stand there, remain unnoticed, and zone out.

And oh, how he had enjoyed that. Eli was a planner, and he liked to have time to think about what he was going to do. For the first hour, he had made good use of the time by plotting out his entire essay, figuring out how to fix Morty's latest problem, and estimating how much money he could sell the extra tickets for.

The second he had wasted thinking about Clare. His thoughts ran wildly in circles, jumping frantically from inquiry to inquiry. 'Would she want to go to the concert with him? If so, how could he get her there, if Morty was broken? Wait, why did he even want her to go with him? Rock music wasn't really her thing. Well, he could change that. Why bother?' _Because I think I love her…_

Suddenly, the wheels in his mind came to a screeching halt. What. The. Hell. He had known this girl for barely two weeks, and he thought he loved her? What kind of nonsense was that?

But deep down, he knew that he did. That he wasn't crazy, that something wasn't wrong with him. Really, what wasn't there to like about Clare? She was perfect, perfect for him. She was pure, kind, _good_, but also courageous and strong-willed. She could hold her own (and even win) in an argument with him. She was smart, capable, determined- a girl going places. And she was pretty. Oh, she was beyond pretty. If Eli looked like a demon, a high school Grim Reaper, then Clare was an angel. With her gentle features and wide, clear eyes, she had a face that belonged on the wall of a cathedral, and her soft, natural figure was like a classical sculpture. Eli has never been one to act and think like everybody else, and he personally regarded the tan, blonde and skinny modern ideal for what a woman should be was disgusting compared to Clare's timeless beauty. She was everything he could ever dream of.

Which unfortunately, meant he would probably never get her. Really, why would someone like her waste her time with a creepy punk like him? Eli didn't care what people think, never had, but he now found himself wondering what he looked like in _her _eyes. Was he smart? Funny? Annoying? Dare he hope- sexy? What would Clare have done if he had kissed her (like he wanted to) that day they'd skipped class together?

"Ugh! Are you wearing deodorant!" A harsh voice snapped him out of his reverie, and a smirk flew to his face as his mind whirled. Four people were left, and one, the only girl, looked like she might fall to one of his plans any second.

"Well, I do normally. But, today, instead of Ocean Wave, I used day-old trout. Want a better whiff?" He lifted his armpit higher, and the girl instinctively removed her hand from the car to cover her nose. Bingo.

Then, chuckling under his breath as the she complained, he assessed his last two rivals. Both were short, wimpy looking boys that were probably younger than him. One, a nervous looking geek, was complaining to a passer-byer about his bladder. He should be dispatched easily enough. Then, the other was a soft, almost feminine looking guy dressed in baggy clothing. But despite his innocent features, there was a steely glint in his eyes that Eli instantly respected.

Deciding to go for the weak link first, Eli carefully took out a water bottle from the pocket of his blazer, and began to slosh it around. "Anybody thirsty?"

The geek's eyes slid to the bottle, and his already pasty skin became even paler. "Uh…"

"All this water needs to go_ somewhere_." Eli informed him, laughing. "Know what I mean?"

The guy's buggy little eyes expanded behind his glasses, and he started to sweat profusely. "Um, how about if we split the tickets, uh, guys?"

"And how are we going to split them three ways?"

"Uh…" The guy stuttered, eyes locked on Eli's water bottle. Then, with a flourish, Eli poured a little out onto the ground.

"Ugh! I can't take this!" And, without hesitating, the guy ran into the school like a pack of wolves were chasing him.

The girly-looking boy laughed. "Looks like it's just you and me, Fish Pits."

Eli snorted, and raised the bottle to his lips. "Good luck. I have the bladder of a camel." He took a swig to emphasize his point. Nothing like getting into people's heads; it was the best way to control matters.

But the tan guy that was running the whole thing, Sad, or something like that, spoke up. "You know guys, I'm no mathlete, but I'm pretty sure you split four tickets two ways."

Eli assessed the other kids expression. It_ was _getting pretty late and he _did_ only need one other ticket. Maybe it would be better to share.

The other guy apparently thought the same, and so, they agreed to a draw. The tan guy smiled in relief, then handed them each two slips of paper. "Help me with these speakers, ok?"

They both nodded acceptance, but the, when the other kid picked one up, he suddenly seemed to get anxious. "Um, guys! Guys? Help me-"

He dropped it against the headlight, cracking it open.

"Ah, no! My dad's going to _kill_ me!" The tan guy seemed like he was going to have an aneurysm.

"I'm really sorry I- I-"

"Just. Go."

"Come on." Eli hissed, and grabbed the kid, Adam's, arm. "Just listen to him."

But as soon as they were out-of-earshot, his strange, higher voice started up again. "Oh. Man, what am I going to do? How could I drop that thing? I don't want President Sav to hate me!"

Eli sighed. "Well, there's nothing you can do now."

"That's not true! I can- I can- hey, we could give him our extra tickets!"

_You're freaking kidding me. _"I don't think so; I have someone I want to give mine to. But you could. There's probably some other fans out there that would kill for backstage passes to a Dead Hand concert."

Adam brightened. "Ok! I will. See you around!" He ran off, and Eli looked warily at his retreating form. Jeez, that kid spoke in a lot of explanation points. Then, he pulled out his cell, and speed-dialed.

She picked up on the third ring. "Eli? How'd it go?

He laced his voice with pride. "I ended up tying some guy, but it's still a win, right? I got two tickets."

"That's wonderful!"

"Thanks." He said, and wondered briefly if she should ask her then. No, better to wait till they were face to face. Swallowing, he asked, "So, how's the essay going?"

"Better. I thought about what you said, and I think I might have something now. See you at the Dot in twenty minutes?"

"It's a date."

_ If only, Eli. If only._

**Sorry for the extreme lack of Eclare moments! I'm trying to go a little more slowly, and thought introducing Adam in might be a good idea.**

**I'm planning for the next chapter to be Clare working on her essay (and of, course, thinking _a lot_ about Eli). But, if you want me to just skip straight to their Date at the Dot, just say so! I'll go with the popular vote.**

**Thanks for reading! Those nineteen reviews and sixteen favorites made me feel happy. ^_^**


	3. Chapter 3

**Like Clare was in this story, I have been suffering from a severe case of writer's block, all because I really didn't want to botch their date. So, to take the pressure off a little bit, I'm going to draw their time at The Dot out an excruciating amount. And anyway, the essay vs. date thing was even when I started writing this, so I decided combining the two would be best.**

Clare Edwards was not typically a violent girl. Nor was she one to dwell on things she couldn't fix. But despite that, she could not help that recent events made her old hatred for hormones come out.

Last year, when she'd been the props master for the drama club, she'd been fighting very serious, very embarrassing, and very, very _smutty_ thoughts about the ultra-popular Declan Coyne. The best way to get rid of them was by writing fanfiction good little Christian girls normally didn't read, let alone create. And this method worked, at least for a while, but didn't prevent her from making a royal fool of herself in front of everyone in the long run.

So, in response, she'd begun to develop a deep, passionate hatred for the damn little impulses themselves. She imagined them as little Cupids, positively annoying fat babies that would start out smiling at her mischievously, then start crying when she chased them around a room while brandishing a fork. They always seemed so scared, so unbelieving, so _angry._

Damn it all. This whole predicament she was in was probably their idea of a clever revenge.

She shook her head violently. What were these thoughts? She wasn't just writing steamy vampire scenes; she was having daydreams about infanticide, and using bad language. What was this world coming to, if Saint Clare wanted to kill a fat baby?

It was _His _fault. His fault, because he was so aggravating, so different, so mysterious, so smug, and so completely and totally _hot._

Clare wasn't sure quite how to describe how she felt about Eli, though she'd tried, many times. He was an enigma, an unknown, someone who was so sarcastic that she'd learned to instantly doubt everything he said. If that stupid book she had had to write an essay on was tough to understand, he was a hundred, no, a thousand times worse.

She knew it was his looks that had first drawn her eye, if she was being completely honest. When he's run over her glasses and stepped out of the car, she'd been in a triumphant mood, proud of herself for finally giving up on boys and committing to a serious, scholarly future. There wasn't anybody at her school she was interested in, nobody worth taking time off of her studies for.

But from the second she'd seen those long skinny jean clad legs, that mop of sleek, dark hair, and those too-bright eyes, she'd been aware that maybe there were hot guys elsewhere in the world. He was, for lack of better words, magnetic. She'd felt compelled, irresistibly drawn to him from that first, short meeting.

But that didn't mean she was in love with him. Oh no, Clare Edwards was far too sensible for that. Why crush on a guy you don't even know? What if he was stupid? Immature? Perverted? She was a bright girl, and knew you couldn't always judge a book by its cover. Some guys might be hot, but it was personality alone that Clare considered in the long run.

But then, he'd been in her English class, and they'd been assigned as partners. It was like the universe was conspiring against her, all but forcing her to fall in love. Because inside, Eli was every bit as attractive as his body was.

He was kind, caring, protective, sweet- but he hid it all behind a smug and totally irritating persona. Eli seemed proud, and clamed to not care one whit what anybody thought of him, but Clare had seen him refuse to scream in front of a bunch of strangers. Deep down, he had a least some insecurity; some doubt in himself, and it was completely invisible unless you looked for it. But it was also this sort of inner strength and courage that drew her to him most.

Suddenly, she felt hot breath on the back of her neck, and almost jumped as a low, husky voice whispered into her ear. "Do you normally destroy things when you zone out, or is this a rare occurrence?"

Looking up, she saw Eli himself; smirking at the table of the booth she'd parked herself in. Spreading out over the top was a blanket of shredded paper, a napkin she'd ripped up unconsciously as she'd been thinking.

"I suppose I should take responsibility for the mess," he continued, "since it is my fault you're here in the first place, and because I'm the one who got you so worked up over the essay."

She shook her head. "I wasn't thinking about the essay."

He raised an eyebrow. "Really? So what could it be then?"

"Nothing. Nothing at all." She reached out to sweep the tiny strips of paper into her palm, and then stood to go dump them in a nearby trashcan. As she walked, she realized that her arm was trembling, and that her vision seemed a little blurry. What, low blood sugar? Was was she really that hungry?

_ Yeah, Clare. Hungry for him. _

As she moved back to the table, she shook her head shook violently, trying to clear those disgustingly naughty (but also tempting) thoughts out of her brain. Nothing good could come of this; she might as well realize that. Why hold on to these thoughts, if they were just going to cause her pain?

Eli eyed her speculatively as she slowly sank back unto the bench. "You ok?"

"Yeah," she responded, not daring to meet his eyes. "Just a little mentally drained. That essay killed me."

"Oh, so you're done?" He held out a hand. "Let me see it."

"Fine." She said, and obliged him.

It was a good paper; she knew that for sure, and possibly even a great one. Once she'd accepted the unfortunate truth (that Eli was right), it hadn't taken her too long to realize what she needed to do. That is, flip through the book till she found one passage that sparked her interest. From there, she just had to look, try to find a single cell of an idea. Because, as Eli had said, getting one was the only hard part of the assignment: once she could see one possibility, that single idea could suddenly divide, could branch off in countless directions. All too soon, she had too much information, and had had to work to stay behind the six-page maximum.

But her paper wasn't just on symbolism, it was about writer's block, about perfection, and especially about being blind because of the fear to take a leap of faith and believe in an uncertainty. When she limited herself by hoping to find the exact answer, it would never appear, because that was not the nature of ideas. Like people, the best ones, the deepest, most profound, _the keepers_- they only showed up when you weren't looking for them.

"Clare, this is one of the most amazing things I've ever read," Eli's voice was filled with a sincerity that was completely out of character for him. "This is practically at the level of the pieces we read, it's so wracked with hidden meaning. You're not analyzing symbols; you're taking a plunge into peoples' minds, and investigating the very nature of inspiration. This is just as spiritual, just as deep, as anything we've studied. Thoreau would be impressed, and I'm sure Dawes will be too."

She looked up then, and saw that he was staring at her with an expression she wasn't sure how to interpret. Was it admiration, maybe, or something more… personal? Almost unconsciously, she moved her gaze to his, and they held eye contact, peridots and blue topazes meeting in an exchange that said more than their mouths dared.

But then, he smirked, and the moment ended as suddenly as it had arrived. "So, when do I get my sandwich?"

Rolling her eyes, she handed him a menu. "Here, pick one out."

"What, no recommendations?" He whined.

"Nope. It's your choice."

He sighed, and started flipping through. "Hmm… a BLT sounds great to me. What are you going to get?"

"Absolutely nothing." When he looked at her skeptically, she shrugged, and then tried to imitate his iconic smirk. "I want to have a complete appetite for when you take me for ice cream"

He shook his head, "What, are you going to pig out? Make me buy you three extra large scoops in a waffle cone?"

"Oh, absolutely." She laughed, and stepped out of the booth once again. "Here, I'll go give them your order. Anything you want to drink?"

"Just a coke."

"Right. Be back in a sec." She approached the bar, where her sister's ex stood polishing a stack of glasses. "Hi, Peter."

"Baby Edwards!" The blonde's face broke out into a wide grin."I haven't seen you in a while."

"I've been pretty busy."

Peter's eyes narrowed suddenly, and Clare whipped her head around to see what he was looking at. Eli.

"Not _too _busy, I hope." There was a harsh, protective edge to the older guy's voice that, while vaguely amusing, made her worry slightly for Eli's safety.

"Oh, him? He's my English partner. We have to edit each other's essays, and stuff. That's what we're doing now."

"Is that so? Hmmm…" Peter looked the dark-haired guy over for a minute, and then sighed. "He seems a little... dreary, but looks nice enough. But still, know that Spinner, Declan, and I can make his life miserable if he messes with you."

"Peter!"

"Sorry, sorry. It's just, I don't know, hard to see you growing up. Anyway, what are you ordering?"

She told him what they wanted, then walked back towards the table. "So Eli." She asked as she was sitting down, "What sort of concert tickets did you win?"

He glanced downward at his sharpied nails. "Yeah, um, about those…"

**Well, I think I'll stop it there, because I'm in an evil sort of mood. :) **

**Reviews are the lifesblood of writers; they us feel loved and our days happy! Special thanks goes to the people that have already written me some. Ya'll are great!**

**Finally, for some strange reason, my classes start on Monday, so I'll have less time to write after that. Hopefully, this fic will be done by then anyway, but we'll see.**


	4. Chapter 4

**Thanks for being patient with me! Here we go again!**

"Would you like to go to the concert with me?" Eli said quickly as he eyed the wall behind Clare's head.

"Huh?" She blinked at him curiously, and he cursed the sudden stupidity that had made him blurt out his big idea.

But what else was he supposed to do when she'd said she knew who Dead Hand were? She had explained that she knew President Sav's family pretty well, and that he played them around the house whenever his parents were out. After a few hundred forced listens with the guy's sister (who Eli assumed was the girl she'd been with when they first met), she'd even ended up liking them.

So it was perfectly reasonable that he'd asked her then. Swallowing, he repeated himself.

Her eyes widened, and she bit her lip. "Eli, I'd love to, but it's on a Sunday night. I can't make my mom go to church supper by herself."

"Oh." He heard himself say, but it sounded very far away. "I see."

"It's not that I don't want to go!" She said hastily, and reached across the table to place her soft, warm hand on top of his. "I'd love to. It's just, I can't."

He carefully hid his emotions away before looking up to meet her eyes. "Guess I'll give the ticket back to Sav then."

"That sounds like a good idea." Clare agreed; he'd told her what had happened to the truck. Then, she took a shaky breath. "Um, Eli…"

"Yes?" He asked, watching her cooly. She seemed flustered, and was nibbling on her already pink lip.

"I'm really worried about my parents, but it's hard to be with either of them now. Actually, it's downright miserable. When you asked me if I wanted to work on my essay today, I was ecstatic, because it meant I got to miss out on the awkward silence at dinner. I'd much rather be with you than them right now."

"Really?" Eli asked, disguising his joy with amusement. "Am I _that_ irresistible?"

She gasped, and slapped his arm. "_Ugh!_ You're so arrogant!"

"Come on, Clare Bear, you know you love me." He countered playfully, flipping his bangs out of his eyes.

"One BLT and two large cokes." A stiff voice interjected from his right, and he turned to see a tall blonde guy holding a tray with their order. He was glaring at Eli with an expression that sent shivers down his spine, and as he placed the food on the table, Eli wondered what he'd done.

"Peter!" Clare said cheerily (a little too cheerily, in his opinion). "This is Eli, my English partner."

"Pleasure." Eli said, and held his hand out.

The guy ignored it. "Enjoy your food." He nodded at Clare, and went back to the counter.

"Um, anyway," Clare seemed embarrassed. "What were we talking about?

"Your undying attraction to my dark good looks." He answered automatically, shaking off any remaining feelings of unpleasantness.

"Eli," she responded testily, and took a long sip out of her coke.

"Right, whatever." He bit off half of his sandwich. "What was that between you and the waiter? He looked like he wanted to bite my head off."

"Peter? He's, um, my sister Darcy's ex." He raised an eyebrow, and she tried to explain. "Darcy left to go build a school in Kenya, and nobody's really had any contact with her since. But I keep in touch with her old friends. All of her exes are like siblings to me."

"Really? Eli asked, his head whirling. "And how many big brothers is that?"

"Just two, Peter and Spinner. But really, Declan (he's Holly J's boyfriend) and maybe Sav could be counted too."

Well, that was great. Not only did she have an ultra-Christian family, she had four big brothers who could act as her own private army. How was that ex of hers, KC, still breathing?

"You about finished with that?" She asked him, pointing to the remains of his sandwich.

"Um, yeah. Give me the money, and I'll go pay." Better to make peace with the enemy now, than find himself cornered in an alley someday.

"Here." She handed him a couple of bills. "Bring me the change, and don't get yourself killed."

"Ha ha." He said, and walked to ward the counter. "We're ready to pay.

The guy, Peter, eyed him. "You've got some nerve, kid."

Eli shrugged. "Look, if you're worried about Clare-"

"Yes, I am worried about Clare. Tell me, _Eli_, what do you think of little Miss Edwards?'

"I think she's a very smart and sweet girl who'd also incredibly stubborn, but is well-liked by just about everybody she knows and deserves the very best."

The blonde didn't miss a beat. "And would you consider yourself to be the best?"

"No." Eli answered truthfully. "But I would try to be close."

"Hmm…" Peter's ice-like eyes looked Eli over twice, and then stared at his face. The dark-haired boy felt like he was on trial.

"I guess," Peter reached out to snatch the money away, put it in the cash register, and then handed him change. "You'll do."

Eli sighed in relief, then headed back towards their table. "So," he asked Clare, "ready for ice cream?"

"You bet it!" She stood quickly, and started walking towards the door.

Once they got out onto the street, Eli asked. "So, that's twice now you've refused to hang out with me in public. Afraid I'll make you look foolish again?"

"No!"

"Then prove it." He smirked at her angry expression. "I'll get you out of the house for a couple of hours every week, but only if you agree to whatever crazy schemes I come up with. Deal?"

She at him skeptically, then shrugged. "Deal. But only if you participate equally this time. I hate hypocrites."

"Really?" He clutched his heart. "You wound me, milady!"

"You deserve it, for remaking me scream like that, and then refusing to do anything yourself."

"Well, it wasn't my style."

"Your _style_." She said acerbically. "Well, I must say, I'm not very impressed with your style."

He raised an eyebrow. "And how could my style impress you?"

"By having standards and sticking to them. At all times."

He shrugged. That wouldn't be a problem; Eli was well aware that he was probably one of the most stubborn guys alive. If there was one virtue he had, it was consistency. "Deal. Now, there's a Ben and Jerry's a couple from blocks from here, but the route goes through the park. How about we embarrass ourselves as we walk?"

Warily, she looked him in the eye. "How so?"

"You'll see." He winked, and grabbed her her soft wrist. "Come on, let's go!"

**Yay! That's another one done, and just in time for me to finish my summer reading before I have to turn it in tomorrow! (Take note, everyone. Procrastination is a _bad_ idea.) XP**

**So, I have an idea for how Eli's going to embarrass her and some for the ice cream shop, but besides that, I'm pretty blank! So if you have a request for anything, just say so. I'm pretty flexible, as long as it works into the storyline before Try Honesty 1. So, as much as we may want it, I can't make them kiss D:**

**Thanks for reading! Reviews make authors smile and dance around the room with joy! XD**


	5. Chapter 5

**Sorry for the long delay (a week, I know!) but all nine of my teachers believes that just because the IB programme says I need to be a self-learner, I have to have at least an hour's worth of homework every night for each of their classes. Thank goodness most of them are every other day.**

**Not that I'm complaining… XP**

**Yeah. Whatever. NOW IT'S STORY TIME!**

"Where are you taking me?" Clare asked as Eli dragged her though the park. It was late afternoon, and the sun above was just starting to sink.

He chuckled, and then grinned sadistically. "What? Is Saint Clare scared of little old me?"

"No!" She denied quickly, and dug her heels into the ground. "I'd just like to know what sort of evil plot you have up your sleeve this time."

He spun her around. "See for yourself."

There, just to the left, below the local kickball field, was an enormously steep hill. It was covered in green grass from top to bottom, and ended beside a track no less than thirty people were using. "We're going to roll down that." He breathed in her ear.

The shudder went through Clare's body that was part pleasure and part fury. "_What_?"

"You heard me, Blue Eyes. We're going to stand at the top, scream, then drop to our knees, and roll like maniacs till we suddenly come to a dizzying stop. Following that, we will stumble towards Ben and Jerry's like a couple of drunkards, and I will buy you as much ice cream as you want."

"Eli! That's so… so…"

"Cool? Fresh? Exciting? I know, right!"

"No!" She all but yelled, making a passer-byer stare at them. She dropped her voice to a furious whisper. "Question. How is _this_ more your style than just screaming at the top of your lungs?"

"It's not," He shrugged. "But you said I have to do it too, and the point is just to make _you_ look foolish. Suppose I'm a martyr."

"Oh, _shut up_." She huffed, and he laughed. Then, squaring her shoulders, she started to march toward the ominous drop. "You coming?"

He raised his eyebrows." You bet."

It didn't take them long to reach the crest, and Clare found herself eyeing the slope nervously. "What exactly am I supposed to scream?"

He shrugged. "I dunno. Whatever."

"Hmmm, whatever I want." She pursed her lips, deep in thought. There had to be some way to get back at him. "Wait, I know!"

"What?"

"You'll see, but you have to go first. That way, I know you won't wimp out on me again."

He rolled his eyes melodramatically. "So mean." Then, flinging his arms out, he let out a wild whoop, and flung himself into a spiraling trek to the bottom.

Clare raised an eyebrow, then noticed all the people staring. _Well, here goes nothing…_

"I'M KING OF THE WORLD!" She yelled viciously, and hurled herself into the surprisingly soft foliage beneath her feet.

The sky and ground mixed before her eyes, and she shut them so not to throw up. _Good grief, this is nauseating._

But soon enough, it was over, and she found herself staring up at a once-again smirking Eli. "Could you have yelled anything lamer?"

"You're one to talk!" She choked out, struggling to get to her feet. "You didn't even say anything intelligible!"

He narrowed his eyes. "Oh? We'll see about that." Turning to the large crowd of on-lookers, he opened up wide and shouted, "Hey! I JUST LOST THE GAME!"

Someone cursed at them in response, and Clare turned to look at him with confusion. "What does that mean?"

His eyes widened. "You mean you don't know what the Game is?"

"No. Not really."

"Oh, you poor deprived child! We're going to have to correct that." He slung an arm around her shoulders, and, together, they started to make their way to the ice cream shop.

Five minutes later, Clare suddenly felt like she had been opened to a whole new world of stupidity. "So, basically, all you have to do to piss off a great number of people is yell you've lost, and then they all lose by default."

"You got it."

"That's lame."

"I think you're just mad because now you can lose too. But, whatever. We're here. Pick out whatever you want, ok?"

As he opened the door for her, Clare was simultaneously hit with the wonderful smell of chocolate and sugar. Truly, there was nothing in the world that smelled better than an ice cream shop.

She walked toward the lady at the counter. "I'd like a scoop of Chocolate Fudge Brownie, another of Magic Brownie, and the last of Mud Slide in a waffle cone, please."

"Wow." Eli said quietly. "You weren't kidding."

She looked at him with vindication. "I _love _ice cream."

"I can tell. Three scoops of Cherry Garcia, please." He said as the lady came back with Clare's order.

Clare licked her top layer with relish. "Cherry Garcia? That's an interesting flavor choice."

He raised an eyebrow. "How so?"

"It's just now what I'd have expected you to like.'"

"Oh." He handed the lady a few bills in exchange for his cone, and got change. "Why's that?"

"Well… they just have some pretty unusual flavors here, and, I don't know, that just doesn't seem very you-ish."

He shrugged and started walking toward the door. "I've always liked this flavor. It's simple and sweet, but with a surprise chocolate kick. Anyway," He gestured at her cone, "I wouldn't have pinned you as a choco-holic either."

She smiled. "I love it, the darker and stronger the better. I always get these flavors because they're the most chocolate-y. Though the raspberries in Magic Brownies give it a pleasant touch."

He laughed, and they began to walk in the general direction of the school. "Guess there's a lot more to you than what meets the eye, huh?"

Frowning, she stepped in front of him. "What do you mean?"

He gestured. "Well, you're under a lot of pressure, with your parents and all, but try to put on a good face for everybody. You're all sweet and innocent, but stubborn and indomitable at the same time. You have four almost big brothers to defend you, but your only real female friend is too busy to pay much attention to you anymore. And, most importantly, you love overwhelmingly dark chocolate ice cream."

"And you're not any different!" Clare threw her hands in the air. "Eli, you're an enigma! I never know what you're going to say or do, and half the time, it's sarcasm anyway!"

"Oh, Blue Eyes." He reached out, staring her down with those breath-taking eyes. "You know you love me for it."

She shook her head. "Nope. Not at all. In fact, you're such a pain, I don't know why I even hang out with you. I-"

He pulled her to him so suddenly that the contact seemed to push the air from her lungs. "Wha?"

"You know, that hurts, Clare." He looked at her from under his bangs with total seriousness.

"Eli, I-" She couldn't concentrate, not with him this close, and certainly not with his great, jewel-like pinning her in place. "I-"

"Psss! He hissed. "This is where you confess your undying love and swear to attempt to understand me as thoroughly as you understand that book we're working on. You know, uncover my hidden depths, read between the lines, all that jazz."

The moment broke, and she shoved him away. "You just can't, you're just, WHY DO YOU HAVE TO BE SO FULL OF YOURSELF?"

Before he could answer, some guy across the street yelled. "Just kiss him already!"

She felt herself blush crimson, and began to walk away in embaressment "Goodbye, _Eli._ I'll see you tomorrow."

He sped up, and grabbed her shoulder. "You know what?"

"What?" She tried not to growl.

"I'm sorry, but I only tease you because you're such an easy target. It's nothing personal, and, honestly, I'm really glad we're English partners. Do you want to do this again next time Mrs. Dawes gives out a paper? You can be the critic for one."

It was tempting, even beyond the idea of getting revenge for hours and hours of being the idiot with writer's block. But did she really want to hang out with this dark, sarcastic, arrogant _guy_ all the time.

Yep, she sure did. "Fine. See you around?"

He smirked. "You can bet on it."

**THANKS TO ALL MY REVIEWERS, READERS, AND THE GENERALLY AWESOME PEOPLE THAT LOVE ECLARE! I HEARD THEY KISS NEXT WEEK, ZOMG! YAY!**


	6. Author's Note

Sorry guys, I hate to make a whole chapter for an author's note, but I kinda intended that to be the end of it in the last chapter… sorry it wasn't obvious. I'm still new to the site, and don't really know how to work everything yet. And I'm going to stick by that excuse, when it's really just that I suck at finishing stories XP (any of my friends and family can testify to that ^^;)

But anyway, I'm going to be posting a new Eclare fanfiction pretty soon (as soon as I have TIME), so be sure to look for it!

If ya'll feel like it, of course.

THANKS FOR READING! THE THOUSANDS OF HITS AND SEVENTY-SOMETHING REVIEWS MAKE A GIRL FEEL REALLY LOVED! :DDDD


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